User blog:Leea/The Tale of Voronwe, Chapter 89
Previous Chapters 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th, 11th, 12th, 13th, 14th, 15th, 16th, 17th, 18th, 19th, 20th, 21st, 22nd, 23rd, 24th, 25th, 26th, 27th, 28th, 29th, 30th, 31st, 32nd, 33rd, 34th, 35th, 36th, 37th, 38th, 39th, 40th, 41st, 42nd, 43rd, 44th, 45th, 46th, 47th, 48th, 49th, 50th, 51st, 52nd, 53rd, 54th, 55th, 56th, 57th, 58th, 59th, 60th, 61st, 62nd, 63rd, 64th, 65th, 66th, 67th, 68th, 69th, 70th, 71st, 72nd, 73rd, 74th, 75th, 76th, 77th, 78th, 79th, 80th, 81st, 82nd, 83rd, 84th, 85th, 86th, 87th, 88th The Tale of Voronwe, Chapter 89 4th Era 171, 7th of Second Seed, Summerset Isles The storm outside roared with all the ferocity of an enraged beast. Fires spawned by the lightning strikes raged across Firsthold, despite all the efforts to keep them contained. He'd stood in front of his window and watched buildings - ones that had weathered many, many storms in the past - topple like they were made of twigs and straw...like they were nothing. As he watched in horror, people running through the streets were sucked up into the monster above by freak tornadoes, or instantly obliterated by evidently aimed lightning bolts. Hail the size of fists or larger - he'd seen a few the size of a horse's head - severly damage structures and houses, and turned his stomach as they crushed the bodies of those who'd avoided the fires, the tornadoes, and the lightning. He knew his windows were broken out; a few minutes ago he realized that standing in front of something that could shatter into dozens upon dozens of very sharp pieces was a bad idea, and so he went and cowered in his basement. He'd then heard the unmistakable sound of glass breaking, and the wind whistle through the jagged openings. It felt unmanly, unheroic, to be sitting in his basement and not helping any one of those poor souls outside, but it was the only thing he could make his body do. Down here, the roar was quieter, though still ferocious and furious. He knew it was only a matter of time that his own roof would get blown off, or destroyed by hail like everyone else's. He hoped the fires stayed away from his home. It was the Maormer, he knew, that had set this freak of nature on Summerset. Had to be. It came from that direction. No storm like this could brew from normal conditions; this was a product of Orgnum's twisted mind. Quite clever, in fact (to give him grudging, unneeded praise) that he chose now, of all times, to send it, when the Dominion was occupied with the Imperial Empire. Since the monster was obviously constructed - what other weather pattern would sit utterly stationary? - there was no way of knowing when the beast would end. Even though it was now dark outside - and not just because of the storm, but the setting of the sun - the storm continued unabated. Nothing natural would go on like that. It would die with the sunset. As he wrapped his arms around his knees and sat in a corner, he thought about Curwe. She had been so nice and kind to him all those decades ago. His feelings - such as they were - still glowed brightly, even after years from her absence. She was all alone on that beach, he cried silently. If he was anything like those old Aldmer and Altmer heroes, he would have found a way to go and rescue her, but he sat glued with fear to his bare, cold floor. He was ashamed of himself. Just thinking of her and her house on that desolate strip of land and the possibility of her getting hurt made his heart clench painfully. He prayed to Auriel that she would be okay. * * * Over the roar overhead - he dared not sleep, even if he could drift off - Akadil heard a whisper of sound in front of him. The basement was in utter blackness, and for the first time he cursed himself for not bringing a light. Had someone entered his basement, looking for shelter from the monster outside? If so, why weren't they saying anything? Of course, he also wasn't really saying anything, but surely he would hear their breathing? He could hear his own. He cocked his head to the side, straining to hear over the din overhead. His roof must be gone by now; the roar was much louder than it had been, though still muffled to some extent by his floor and the distance between him and the destruction above. He listened harder. Abruptly, Akadil felt his skin crawl. He heard nothing to account for this reaction, but from head to toe he broke out in goosebumps. He heard nothing. He saw nothing but inky blackness. His heart began to hammer in his chest. He suddenly felt certain that someone - or something - was in his basement with him. It was not just a case of halucination brought on by frayed nerves; he knew it was there. He would have staked his life on it. As he began to break out in a cold sweat, Akadil instantly felt - instantly knew - that whatever shared his basement with him would reveal itself (or themself) shortly, right in front of him. As he stared in vain at the pitch blackness before him, eyes wide open to try to see something, anything, the sound repeated itself. A tiny, bare whisper of sound, but to his ears, as loud as if he were in the middle of the storm above. Category:Blog posts